


Fancy Meeting You here

by Silex



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Bio Organic Weapons | B.O.W.s, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, G-Virus, I'm Bad At Tagging, Infected Characters, Monsters, Post-Canon, Shameless Smut, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 20:11:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14386245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/pseuds/Silex
Summary: After the events of RE6 Jake is working as a mercenary somewhere in Europe, after a B.O.W. manufacturer when he meets someone unexpected. Sherry's still working for the DSO and is after the same target. Things are a bit awkward at first due to circumstances, but they manage to work something out that's mutually beneficial.If the tags aren't a giveaway, this is smut pure and simple.





	Fancy Meeting You here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HostisHumaniGeneris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/gifts).



> Sherry and Jake are an oddly underused pairing, hopefully I did them right.

“So,” Jake stared out the window, at the television, at the wall, anywhere but at Sherry, who was currently sitting next to him on the far side of the battered sofa, “Schreiber got away.”

Sherry stared resolutely at the television, all eyes watching it with an intensity that bordered on terrifying, largely because it was off and the screen was cracked, probably the only reason looters hadn’t taken it when they’d swept through the apartment complex.

“Yeah,” she shifted uncomfortably, moving a little farther away, so that she was resting crouched half on the arm of the sofa.

“Sorry about that,” he looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

She turned slightly.

They nearly made eye contact.

Immediately they both turned away.

The sofa creaked as she shifted her weight slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit, or maybe trying to get farther from him.

He looked at her again, saw that she was fidgeting with her radio. It was off right now, or at least he hoped it was. If it wasn’t anyone who was listening in was hearing a lot that he’d rather not have the United States government aware of. Strike that, hearing a lot that he’d rather no one be aware of.

Like how he’d screwed the pooch with Schreiber.

“I can’t blame you,” Sherry spoke out of nowhere, but he knew what she wat talking about.

Unfortunately.

“I should have…” No, no he shouldn’t have. There was nothing logical, sane or rational that he could have done differently given the situation. They were working for two separate agencies, separate countries even, neither aware that the other was there, going after the same target.

It was pure chance that they’d encountered each other the way they had, him having finally managed to lure Schreiber out with the promise of a deal, her having tracked him for weeks, waiting for him to slip up and show himself somewhere that she actually had a chance of getting to him. She’d gotten there right as Schreiber arrived, caught the two of them off guard and in the confusion that followed Schreiber got away.

She was staring at him now, daring him to offer an explanation of what he could have done differently. He’d already had the same argument with himself a dozen times over and he hadn’t won it once.

“Alright, fine,” he leaned back and stared at the ceiling, “I still feel like an asshole for shooting you, okay?”

“Don’t.”

Giving up on getting comfortable sitting on the sofa she grabbed the cushion that was between them, put it on the coffee table and tried laying so that she was draped between it and the sofa. That seemed to work for her. With a sigh she went back to staring at the blank television screen, or maybe watching the reflection of the room in it.

 “You didn’t know I was going to be there, I hadn’t even told you I was back in Edonia and even if I had…” she trailed off, kneaded at the cushion, claws sinking into it, and shook her head, “I wouldn’t have though, because then you might have tired looking for me.”

They hadn’t had much contact since parting ways in China, a few emails, a phone call or two, but nothing substantial, nothing significant.

Nothing where she’d mentioned…

He glanced at her again.

Her eyes met his.

“It’s fine, you can stare,” she turned her head away from him, “It doesn’t bother me.”

She was lying, it _did_ bother her and for that reason he refused to take her up on the offer even though he wanted to, and not for the reason she likely suspected.

No, his reasons were far worse and part of the reason he felt like utter scum.

A lot had clearly happened since he had last seen her, a lot that she hadn’t told him about, not that he could blame her. He hadn’t recognized her when they’d first encountered each other because she’d been utterly unrecognizable. When she’d burst through the window of the building where he’d been meeting Schreiber and rushed the two of them there had been no hesitation on his part. He’d opened fire and kept shooting at she charged.

It wasn’t the shooting that bothered him, it was that he’d laughed when she screamed in pain and stumbled, falling heavily to the floor and staring at him as realization set it.

She’d recognized him first.

He hadn’t recognized her until she gasped out his name as he’d been reloading.

Even then he’d taken aim, been ready to try and finish her off as it all slowly fell into place.

He’d known that she’d been infected with something, but because she’d seemed so normal, so _human_ , that he hadn’t really thought anything of it. She’d told him that she’d been infected since she was little and he’d dismissed it because…

There were a lot of reasons why he’d dismissed it, none of them worth thinking about at the time.

At any time really since the little bit he’d been able to figure out suggested that it had to do with Raccoon City and he had plenty of reasons for not thinking about that, the least of them being her privacy.

He probably should have looked into it or asked her about it. That way they could have avoided what had happened when they’d met earlier that day.

Not that she would have told him, because it wasn’t the sort of thing that you talked about, that she’d want to talk about because…

“You still could have said something,” he grumbled, going back to staring fixedly at the ceiling.

“Like what?” She asked with a dismissive snort, “Or when? We hardly ever talked to begin with and if I said anything about… If I said anything at all you’d have just…I don’t know. In China it was the first time I’d seen Leon in years and I haven’t seen him since. Claire hardly ever came to visit me as it was and when they stopped letting me have visitors she didn’t even try to argue and that was after Dereck was gone.”

“I wouldn’t have done that,” he spoke to a crack in the ceiling, looking at it as though he might fall in and be swallowed by it.

“Of course,” she laughed bitterly, “You never came to visit at all so it would be easy. You’d just have to ignore my emails and stop calling me.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he insisted.

It would be more believable if he’d look at her when he was talking, but it was safer not to. She was exactly the same as she’d been back when they’d first met, except…

That was a large part of the problem, she was acting nervous and shy, like she was a teenager.

He still couldn’t believe that she was older than him, not with the way she acted.

“I’m not being fair, am I?” her tone grew apologetic, “You had your reasons for staying away and they weren’t me. You didn’t want to end up like me, trapped in a lab, little more than an experiment. Except for you it’d be worse, wouldn’t it? Because –”

“Anyone who knows who my father is would expect me to be a monster,” he finished so she wouldn’t have to.

“I was going to say because you wouldn’t have anyone who cared about you,” she said meekly, “But there’s that too. Everyone, even people you don’t know expect the worst of you, even though you’re not your father, you’re a good person and…”

He’d saved her life however many times it had been, though she’d done the same for him often enough that they were probably even there, he’d given his blood to the DSO for free, helped clean up a few biohazard incidents at a discount rate, if she even knew about that, and she thought he was a hero or something. It was pathetic how naive she was.

It was also pathetic how they’d been sitting together for hours now, watching the day pass by and not actually saying anything. They both had work to do, work they were ignoring so that they could sit in the same room and ignore each other.

Earlier that day, right after he’d shot her, she’d gotten on her radio and called in that she’d been injured, that Schreiber had some hired muscle with him that she hadn’t been ready for and she needed time to recover, to figure something out. Then she’d turned off the radio and invited him back to her place to talk things over, her place being the abandoned apartment building they were in right now.

They’d caught up on what they were willing to talk about, she was still working for the DSO, trying to capture Schreiber and not so that he could stand trial for bioterrorism, crimes against humanity or whatever it was that they charged the guys who helped with the field testing of viruses with.

She didn’t like it much, but it was the only way for her to get out of the lab she’d spent most of her life trapped in.

He was working for…he wasn’t actually sure who was behind the people who were paying him, probably not Russia was his best guess, but they wanted Schreiber alive and were willing to pay top dollar for it. The fact that they expressed more interest in the man than his research made Jake think that they probably weren’t the worst people he could have been helping and they were offering enough money that he didn’t want to ask too many questions. It had made for a fun conversation, if the definition of fun could be stretched to include agonizingly awkward.

So as much as she tried to claim that he was a good person and as much as she actually was a good person, neither of them were working for people who were exactly in the right at the moment. In her case though maybe the DSO wasn’t really the lesser of two evils. He’d known that the American government didn’t really care about international law as long as they paid lip service to condemning obvious violations and there were some stories about the DSO that made you wonder, assassination attempts, financing terrorists, little things like that.

They certainly weren’t above using B.O.W.s so everything else was believable enough.

And now he felt like an asshole again.

This had not been what he had expected when she invited him back to her place to catch up, not what he’d been hoping for.

“Alright,” he sighed, continuing to memorize the geography of the ceiling, “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she shifted her weight slightly, still trying to get comfortable, “Just to talk I guess.”

Not that they’d done much talking, but that was at least something he could fix.

He chanced a look at her, “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” she looked back at him with such helplessness that they both had to look away.

He’d tried. It was an honest effort even if it was an abject failure.

“Having company is nice,” she offered, seeming to realize that conversation was a two person job, “I mean I spend too much time alone and it’s been worse since…”

“Yeah, about that,” the ceiling was fascinating, a whole landscape of uneven plaster, “When did…or how…”

Mentally he swore. Even if it was something he wanted to know he had no place asking if she didn’t want to talk about it and she clearly didn’t.

“Not too long after leaving China,” she said almost conversationally, “Probably a few months.”

“Probably?” Never mind her suddenly wanting to talk about what they’d spent all this time not addressing, but how could she not know? “How does that work? I mean I think you’d know exactly when…”

“I was fine when I got back, nothing out of the ordinary showed up on any of the tests and they were pretty through considering the amount of time I’d spent in Umbrella’s labs. It was a few months later, during routine testing that things started showing up. Nothing too crazy, just things. I don’t really understand the technical details, it’s something I never wanted to in the first place. I mean my dad would have, but…maybe that’s why I made a point of not wanting to learn more, to understand. To put a bit more distance between me and him because…” She cleared her throat loudly, trying to disguise the start of a sob as a cough. She did a pretty good job of it too because he only realized it because he’d chanced a look down and saw that she was crying.

Immediately back to the ceiling.

“Anyway,” she sounded almost fine when she continued, “Some numbers weren’t what they should be. Stuff that should have been low was high, stuff that should have been high was off the charts and some things weren’t happening at all.”

“Did they…” he tried to figure out if there was a right way of putting it, “Try to treat any of it?”

“That was part of the problem,” she paused to cough again, “Dusty in here. I really need to air the place out, but anyway, no, they didn’t. At least not at first. They had to weigh whether trying to do anything would make it worse and decided that it wasn’t worth taking any chances. So they just let it all spiral out of control, waiting and hoping. By the time they tired anything, and I had to beg them to –”

She made a small sound of surprise when he slammed his fist against the arm of the sofa. Why did she have to be so upset about things when…

When she had every right to be.

He was the one in the wrong because he wanted her to be fine with things so that they could follow through on an offer she’d probably made as a joke back before what had happened had happened. It definitely wasn’t something he could bring up now, even if he still wanted to.

Which proved how fucked up the whole situation was.

“Sorry,” he did his best to smile apologetically to her without actually looking at her, “Just the thought that no one was willing to do anything until it got that bad.”

“Anything they did could have made it worse,” she said simply, “And I don’t think I waited until it was bad to ask or that they waited until it was like this. They did their best, they really did, but there wasn’t much they could do. The stabilizers they use with the T-virus don’t do anything with the G-virus, they learned pretty early on that retroviral inhibitors aren’t a good thing with me, vaccines aren’t an option since I’m already infected, so treatment was pretty much a case of ‘try anything that probably won’t make things worse’.”

“And it made things worse,” he said flatly, “I can’t believe after all that you –”

“The treatments didn’t work, but they didn’t make things worse either,” she cut him off, “It stopped on its own.”

What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

Fortunately he didn’t have to think of a response, she kept going without any urging from him.

“I’m just lucky that they let me stay on as an agent. This is the first time they’ve let me out since we last saw each other.”

For her not trying to make him feel like an asshole she sure was doing a good job of making him feel like utter shit. He’d come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t a good person, even if Sherry thought otherwise, but the level of guilt she could create with casual little comments.

“And I screwed things up for you,” he slammed his fist against the arm of the sofa again, “I fucking tried to gun you down, let Schreiber get away and now I’m wasting time that could be spent – ”

“Alone,” she cut him off, “Before today I was working alone, but maybe we can work together now. You said it yourself, everyone expects the worst of you, so it doesn’t matter.”

She’d been the one to say that, not him, but he wasn’t going to mention it, not when she sounded so desperately eager, “Okay, maybe that’ll work. The guys I’m working for don’t expect to hear from me unless it’s to tell them that I’ve got Schreiber and I want my money, but what about you? I can’t imagine that the DSO wants anyone to know about you, let alone me.”

“They don’t have to know,” she said brightly, “I told them I needed rest and that I’d contact them when I actually had something to report.”

He hated being the bearer of bad news, but he was a realist, “Except they’re not going to like not hearing from you for that long. What happens when you don’t call in? Do they send a team to find you or call in someone else to clean up their mess? Because the BSAA hasn’t completely given up on this place yet.”

“I can call them in the morning,” she amended, “I don’t need to mention you or anything and if you keep quiet everything will be fine.”

Not the best of plans, but not one he was going to argue with, except for one crucial detail, “Which of us gets Schreiber?”

“Whoever gets to him first?” She offered carefully, “I call in and say that someone else got to him first and I couldn’t try and get him back because I’d either have to risk being seen or killing a lot of people to keep from being seen. Or you call and tell your boss the truth. That works, right?”

It did, mostly because it made her happy and he wanted to see her happy. Even if she was doing a good job of not acting miserable despite everything he could tell there was something bothering her, not that it was difficult to guess what it was.

He just hoped that she never found out how much money she was costing him.

His friends, back when he’d bothered having friends, had joked about how having a woman was a waste of money, the most expensive mistake you could make, but they hadn’t known the half of it.

Only an idiot would throw away the amount of money he’d been offered, especially when there was absolutely nothing in it for him.

So he had the choice of being an asshole or an idiot.

Fun.

“I can go along with that,” if he wanted to he could probably get on his phone right now and call Schreiber, the man had given him a number to contact him after all, and tell him that he was still alive, wanted to have another meeting and that he had the thing that had attacked them and was willing to throw it in as part of the bargain. He wasn’t going to mention that, at least not yet, not when Sherry had made it so obvious that she wanted company.

And that she wanted to have the chance at freedom.

Not that she was free by any stretch of the imagination.

Finally taking her up on her invitation he stared at her.

Now that he was actually looking at her she froze, all eyes on him, her tail, which had been inching across the distance between them, flicked away.

The little bit of research he’d done after meeting her had suggested that the G-virus was some scary shit and made him doubt that she’d been telling the truth about being infected with it. Looking at her now, she had been telling the truth and what he’d read had been true.

From her appearance there was no immediate way to tell that she’d once been human. If he’d been shown a picture and told ‘figure out what they used to make this B.O.W.’ he would have guessed some sort of big cat, probably a lion because of the size and the scraggly tufts of blond hair on its head and down the back of its neck. If she’d been able to stand upright she’d probably be taller than the average Tyrant, but the way her body had twisted meant that she was stuck on all fours, not that she had any trouble getting around. When she’d charged towards him earlier that day she’d been moving inhumanly fast. He’d barely had time to react, but he had.

Not that it showed, all the injuries had healed flawlessly once he’d helped her dig the shrapnel out of her wounds. She’d managed most of it herself, using claws longer than his hand to rake bits of metal and damaged tissue and shattered bone out, though he’d needed to help her around where he’d managed to hit her right in the eye. He’d been aiming for her head and open mouth, but one shot had gotten her in the shoulder, bursting an eye that she had there.

The eye was fine now, half open, but staring at him. It blinked and looked away, two more of the eyes dotting her body at seemingly random focusing on him instead.

She twitched her tail, a length of twisting, raw looking muscle, smaller offshoots writhing at its base and up between her rear legs.

Or rearmost legs.

She had six limbs now, two sets that she walked on, ending in paws with claws that would put any wild animal to shame and an additional set on her chest, below and in front of her forelimbs. They barely reached the ground when she was standing, and had only three fingers each, tipped with wickedly hooked claws they didn’t seem to do much more than get in the way.

She turned her head towards him, her face all teeth and twisted bone, almost human eyes looking out of place on an otherwise animal skull. She didn’t even have a lower jaw, just rows of fangs and a long tongue twisting in empty air.

There were too many fangs to fit in her mouth, or where her mouth had been, they ran down the bottom of her neck, along the center of her chest, stopping just before the end of her ribcage.

When she spoke the words came from somewhere in her chest, harsh and breathless, but still recognizable.

“You’re not afraid of me?” She tilted her head and pawed at the cushion, claws ripping the fabric.

This again.

“You startled me when I first saw you, but no, I’m not afraid.”

It was impossible to feel any fear when just looking at her made him feel awful.

For what he’d done.

For the chances that he’d squandered and that she’d never had in the first place.

For what he still wanted to do.

“Thanks,” she shook her head then twisted to paw awkwardly at the heavy, but padded collar around her neck. A transmitter, she’d explained, so that the DSO could track her in case anything happened that they lost radio contact with her.

“For what?” He asked automatically, only stopping to consider after the word left his lips.

“Not being afraid,” she said quietly, not a single eye looking at him, impressive considering the number that she had, “I just wish…”

Shaking her head she got up off the sofa and began to pace the small room.

It was something that she’d done a lot judging by the claw marks on the floor and the tears in the carpet. If he had to guess he’d say that she’d found this place shortly after being dropped off and been staying there whenever she hadn’t been looking for Schreiber. It was as good a place as any for a B.O.W. to hide he supposed, abandoned and out of the way of any active fighting between the remaining J’avo and the different organizations trying to retake the city or using it as a test ground for different B.O.W.s. She wasn’t the first crazy thing he’d encountered while looking for Schreiber. Probably wouldn’t be the last either, so having her around would help.

“That you weren’t…” he gestured helplessly, not sure if there was a right way to say ‘a monster’, because technically she’d been a B.O.W. since before they’d first met.

She laughed and shook her head, “No, I’ve always been what I am, it just shows now. There’s so much I wish I’d done before it did though.”

“Like what?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know, go to wild parties, get drunk, do something crazy.”

“I don’t know,” he smiled at such a simple answer, “Wild parties are overrated and if getting drunk is all you want I’m sure I could find something somewhere around if you give me time. You’ve done plenty of crazy though.”

She laughed, “Not like that.”

Her tail and all the little offshoots curled tightly down between her legs like a beaten dog.

There she was with the guilt again.

Because what he wanted wasn’t just crazy, it was stupid and awful. Technically he’d probably be safe because of who, what, his father had been. All he’d have to worry about was her claws and teeth and her being mortified at the very suggestion.

Not that he could blame her, any sane person would be.

“What then?” he wasn’t even going to get his hopes up for what the answer might be.

She wanted to talk, then they sat around being miserable and uncomfortable and he was an idiot for enduring it all.

He could have walked away at any time, but he didn’t.

Because he was an idiot when it came to her.

Even now, when she was like this, he was an idiot.

An idiot and worse.

“Ever since I went back home and you went to wherever it was you went, I’ve been furious at myself for not saying something, not doing things differently,” she went back to pacing, tail uncoiling from beneath her to lash back and forth, “I didn’t have to go back right away, we could have stayed and…or, no, you’d never have come back with me, but I could have left with you.”

And then he would have been there, watching helpless as whatever had happened to her had happened, but he wasn’t going to bring that up. Because he could imagine how that would have played out, at what point in things would he have said something stupid, suggested that they try something? Would he have taken advantage of her while she was still changing, suggesting that they do something before it was too late or would he have had the decency to wait until it was over and she was horrified by what she was and then he could pretend that it didn’t matter to him?

But it did, it mattered too much and in the wrong ways.

Right now he didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was, not because he thought he was in any danger, but because he didn’t want to see her upset. Instead he went with the obvious, “You wouldn’t have liked it, being stuck with me. Besides, you’d never want to do what I do, you’re too good a person.”

Because even though she wasn’t human anymore and from what she’d said she didn’t think that she had been for a long time, she was still a better person than him. He could blame his parents for that, or he could blame his own choices, either way it wasn’t a pleasant statement about his character.

“Alright, maybe we’d end up hating each other after a while, but with all we went through together I don’t think –”

“We went through absolute hell together,” he cut her off, “But that doesn’t mean that we’d get along when things were good. I know, knew, guys that I’d trust my life with during a firefight, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want to go out drinking with or even talk to in any situation where I wasn’t being shot at. I’m probably one of those guys.”

Because who in their right mind would want to spend any length of time with a person who could look at a B.O.W., and not even one of the kind that still looked human, and think ‘that’s something I want to put my dick in’?

She took a deep breath, started to say something, then shook her head, “Okay, maybe that’s how it would be. You know more about that sort of thing than me. You’ve done a lot more than me. The thing is, I can’t help it, I keep thinking that if I’d gone with you then at least I would’ve had the chance to do something, even if it was a mistake and I’d hated it at least I would have done it. Now I’m like this and I’ll never get the chance to…”

She gestured helplessly with her smaller limbs and one of her forelimbs and then looked at him expectantly.

He had a pretty good idea of what she was getting at, but she’d been vague enough that if he really wanted to he could pretend that he thought she was just talking about getting out and doing things. She could go on believing that he was a good person.

“You’re upset because you’ve never had a relationship?”

“It’s stupid, I know, but,” embarrassed, she covered her face with a clawed paw, “Yes.”

He could still pretend that he didn’t understand what she was getting at, but at the same time he was morbidly curious. How far could he push things before she realized?

“Where do you want to do this?”

She lowered her paw half way, tail uncurling to stick out near straight behind her and she froze, not even her tongue twisting in the air, “What?”

The single syllable was a timid squeak, almost fearful.

Maybe he’d been wrong, but there was still a chance to play it off as a joke if he was. It would certainly lighten the mood, he hoped.

“On the sofa, in the bedroom, right here on the floor?”

She stood up a bit straighter, tilted her head to the side, “The bedroom’s this way.”

Then she practically sprinted out on the room, moving across it in one leap and vanishing down the hall with a second.

He followed her, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at the sight of her quizzically sticking her head out of a doorway. Earlier, seeing without knowing what she was, had been terrifying, now she was just hilarious because monster or not, she was still exactly the same as when he’d first met her.

It was the contrast, he told himself, but that was almost worse. He didn’t just want to fuck a B.O.W., he wanted to fuck one that was nervous.

Not that he wanted her to be afraid of him, but her apprehension definitely added to the appeal of it all.

She hadn’t been sleeping on the bed if the pile of blankets and pillows on the floor next to it, arranged in a sort of nest, was anything to go by and considering her size, he supposed it made sense. The bed could probably still support her weight though, and if not the floor was an option.

“What now?” she continued to look at him, expectantly now.

“Get up onto the bed and…” he hadn’t really thought the mechanics of this through, especially not with all the claws and teeth to contend with.

She climbed awkwardly onto the bed, which creaked under her weight, but held. She lay there on her stomach, facing him, tail lashing back and forth, twisting and coiling the whole time, looking far too much like some predatory creature ready to pounce.

“Get onto your back so that I can,” more helpless gesturing, this time from him as he realized something very important, “You’re a virgin, right?”

Stupid question, she’d already said as much, but with all the women he’d been with in the past, none of them had been virgins.

 “Yes,” she whispered as she rolled over, forelimbs and the smaller set of arms behind them held up against her chest, hindlimbs splayed awkwardly to the side, tail draped over the edge of the bed, “But I’m not afraid.”

Yeah, she wasn’t afraid, but if he hurt her and he wasn’t sure if there was any way to avoid that considering it was her first time…one way or another those claws and teeth would be a concern.

“We’re going to have to take this slow then,” mostly to give him time to figure things out, because virgin or not, she was still a B.O.W. and even the mechanics of the act would take some thinking.

The little offshoots from the base of her tail continued down between her legs, an uneven double row of them concealing what he assumed was…

But he couldn’t be sure. The rest of her was different enough that he wasn’t really sure what he should be looking for.

That was something he hadn’t considered, what was she going to be like _there_?

And why did the idea of things being different have such an appeal?

Eyes on her underside blinked up at him.

“You’re going to have to help me here,” he laughed nervously.

Not because he was afraid of her, but because at any moment the implications of what he was offering, the fact that he was willing to offer in the first place, might sink in.

“Oh, sorry.”

It was the first time he’d actually gotten a good look at her while she was talking and seeing her ribcage pull as the mouth running vertically down her chest opened slightly was impressive to say the least. It was a lot of teeth and he got the impression that it could open a lot wider. He still didn’t think that she’d hurt him on purpose, but there was a hell of a lot of room for accidents.

“Let me…,” she laughed nervously, tail twitching back and forth, its little offshoots writhing as they parted, revealing what, aside from its positioning, looked like a perfectly human pussy.

From the outside at least.

He immediately regretted that thought.

Because she certainly had a lot of teeth and it was far less of a leap of logic than he’d like to imagine…

He looked at her eyes, which unfortunately meant that he also had to look at that mouth.

Best not to look at it then.

Taking a deep breath of his own he knelt down. Running his thumbs along either side of her slit he looked things over. Aside from the little offshoots from her tail trying to wrap around his fingers there wasn’t anything different that he could see that he couldn’t attribute to her being a virgin.

He hoped.

She was watching him, head tilted at what had to be an uncomfortable angle, her expression eager, but nervous, “Is everything…”

“Don’t worry,” he reassured, continuing to run his thumbs back and forth, parting her slightly. She was sopping wet, much to his surprise. Nervous as she seemed to be, she was more ready than he was, “I want to take things slow. Your first time and all.”

“You don’t need to.”

The conviction in her voice surprised him, but not as much as the little offshoots, tendrils he supposed, on either side of her slit moving to spread her further, inviting entrance, did.

It was now or never.

Pushing the tendrils out of the way, he closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Cautiously running his tongue against her slit, he tried not to think about teeth. Now was not the time to chicken out, not when he’d probably never get another chance to do something like this.

She tensed and let out a little gasp, one of the tendrils twisting to slide testingly against his tongue.

“Keep going,” she urged, hindlimbs twitching when he prodded and swirled his tongue against where he figured her clit was, assuming that everything was as human as it looked.

Other than the tendrils and her tail flicking against his chest there wasn’t all that much different about her. She even tasted fairly normal, bitter and slightly metallic, but not abnormally or unpleasantly so.

He continued, growing more confident as she let out little gasps when he found the right spot, not that it was hard. The little tendrils pretty much guided him there, trying to curl around his tongue and rubbing against her. They didn’t exactly get in the way, moving to either side as he licked at her and then tried sucking a bit, but he wondered how much control she had over them as they’d occasionally try to work their way farther into his mouth.

When he was confident that there was no immediate danger he grew a little more daring, sticking his tongue in as far as he could.

In response her hindlimbs twitched and the tendrils’ movements grew more forceful, bending and twisting to wiggle in alongside his tongue. When he came up for air the tendrils stretched out like they were reaching for him and when he resumed they dragged across his face, spreading her juices all over him.

He rubbed his thumb against her clit, tendrils shifting away from his tongue to entwine with his fingers.

When he once again probed as deeply as he could with his tongue one of the slightly longer tendrils slid into his mouth.

Fighting shock he pulled back slightly, waiting to see what would happen. It remained in place, twisting back and forth against his tongue. In response he sucked at it, just to see what would happen.

Sherry’s hindlimbs twitched again and she let out a deep groan.

Another tendril worked its way into his mouth.

Apparently it felt good for her.

Sherry’s tail coiled against his chest, the strength of the appendage surprising him. The way it would lash and push back made it difficult to stay in position as he continued to eat her out.

He tried to push it out of the way with his hand, only to have it coil around his wrist. He pulled against it and in response it squeezed tighter.

“You’re going to have to…” he started, lifting his head.

What happened next caught him completely off guard.

Her tail unfurled, the ropes of muscle spreading to reveal that it wasn’t a single appendage, but dozens of tendrils, each no thicker than his little finger, all wound together.

They wrapped around his arms and shoulders and chest, pulling him back down, forcing his face against her and guiding him back into position.

“Alright,” he muttered against her, “I get it.”

For a virgin she was quite demanding, not that he was going to complain.

But when he tried to pick up where he’d left off, running his tongue against her slit and the tendrils alongside it, which he’d realized was apparently an erogenous zone for her, a longer tendril from her tail forced its way into his mouth.

Looking up past tendrils and teeth he could see her all her eyes were fixed on him.

Unsure of what else to do he ran his tongue against the tendril in his mouth.

Another groan from Sherry and the tendril slid further into his mouth.

The ones around his chest slid upwards, twining around his neck and lacing together behind his head, holding him and then guiding him, up and down against the tendril in his mouth.

Her tendrils were doing most of the work now, he was just going along with them, a feeling of helplessness growing with each moment. He trusted her not to intentionally hurt him, but how much control did she have?

It should have worried him. It did worry him, but somehow that only made it more exciting for him. Despite the very real danger, or perhaps because of it, he felt himself getting hard.

Another tendril slipped into his mouth when he gasped for breath, the original one pushing even deeper, threatening to choke him.

“Sherry,” he slurred around the tendrils, but was unable to get any further as the tendrils in his mouth pressed against his tongue, more trying to join them.

He brought his hands up, which was a struggle as they too were caught in her tendrils, and tried to pull them out of the way. Between his saliva and her own juices they were too slick for his fingers to find any purchase and his hands slid uselessly against them.

Sherry at least seemed to be having a good time, squirming and panting beneath him.

Gasping for air he tried to raise his head, to push away from her, as more and more tendrils squirmed against his face, vying for position to get into his mouth. It was impossible to breathe around the ones already there, working deeper and deeper until he gagged and slapped his hand against her thigh.

It took three times for her to realize that something was wrong and even then she was slow to withdraw the tendrils.

He gasped and spat, working his tongue against them, trying to force them out faster, which had the exact opposite of the desired effect.

“Sorry,” she said quietly, sounding more thoughtful than concerned, “This isn’t working, is it?”

He shook his head, still struggling to catch his breath.

“Maybe if we try something different?”

Before he could ask what she meant the tendrils still wrapped around his body pushed him upwards into both forward sets of paws and she spun him around.

Claws hooked onto his pants, grazing his skin as she pulled, or more likely tore, open his fly. Having a fairly good idea of what she was about to try he braced for the feeling of claws or even teeth against his skin. Instead her tongue, as dexterous as her tendrils, wound around his cock, twisting and sliding back and forth.

“Like this?” she asked earnestly, as she, for lack of a better way of putting it, jacked him off with her tongue.

“Yeah, that works,” he panted, surprised that he was still hard after the fright she had given him moments ago, “You wanna sixty-nine?”

Her answer was to wrap her tendrils loosely around his neck and pull his head back down to her pussy.

He was going to interpret that as a yes.

The tendrils around his neck moved, their tips pressing against his lips as she continued to work his cock with her tongue. He opened his mouth slightly, letting a few of them slide in.

She shifted position, pressing him uncomfortably against the teeth running down her chest. He found himself face to face with an eye the size of a tennis ball and for a moment they stared helplessly at each other.

Her proportions didn’t exactly let things work. She was too much bigger than him and not flexible enough for either of them to reach properly. She could mostly keep her tongue around his cock and her tendrils were able to reach his mouth, but it really wasn’t the best position for either of them.

Teeth snagged against his shirt and he tensed when she let out a low growl.

He didn’t say anything though, not that he could have with her tendrils slowly inching farther into his mouth.

“This isn’t working either,” she grumbled, “Hold on.”

“Why?” he managed to mumble around the tendrils in his mouth.

The tendrils withdrew as she adjusted her grip and spun him around again, this time so that they were laying belly to belly in the missionary position.

This time her tendrils wrapped around his waist and hips, twisted around his cock and pulled him into place.

He gave a few experimental thrusts before finding his rhythm, “This better?”

She squirmed beneath him, tendrils still wrapped around his cock and squeezing gently as he thrust into her.

Sherry shook her head.

He slowed down slightly, trying to look at her eyes rather than her teeth, “Am I hurting you?”

Another no.

“It’s uncomfortable,” she panted, still holding him in place with her tendrils, “But not because of anything you’re doing.”

“Maybe if you moved some of these out of the way?” he brought a hand down and rubbed at one of the tendrils, feeling it and several others coil up around his arm in response, “Then we could try changing positions or something.”

Not that he had any clue what position would work better. Maybe if she lay stomach down across the bed and he stood on the floor behind her they could manage, though he wasn’t sure if that would work with the position of the tendrils and the way her legs were.

Her eyes, or at least the ones he could see from the position he was in, closed half way, a thoughtful expression he guessed, “That might work.”

Effortlessly she rolled over, tendrils holding him tight against her as she did.

Her weight pinned him in place, but she was careful, or maybe lucky, not to crush him as she crouched on top of him.

“Much better,” she sighed, propping herself up with her forelimbs.

Was it though? The angle she had him at made it impossible for him to get enough leverage to thrust.

Her tendrils pressed and rubbed against him, curling and uncurling around his cock, creeping beneath his clothing, holding him in position against her.

Growling softly, she ground her hips against him. It didn’t feel bad and must have felt better for her than it did for him because she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself a great deal more than she had been previously. Being able to breathe and not having to worry about being strangled was a plus for him so he lay back to enjoy things as best as he was able, not that it wasn’t enjoyable. The little sounds she was making as she rode him were pretty hot and what she was doing with her tendrils around his cock was impressive. Now that he wasn’t being choked by them he could appreciate them more. Judging by what she was doing, using them to jack him off from inside her while he was balls deep in her, suggested that she had a lot of control over them, which implied that she’d been fully aware of what she’d been doing with them in his mouth. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, maybe she’d just gotten carried away.

She was watching him again, but from this angle he couldn’t get a good enough look at her face to guess what it was that she was thinking.

“Is this working for you?” he asked, thrusting when she moved and lifted enough weight off for him to try.

She nodded, her tendrils gripping him more tightly, coiling in a way that he was able to thrust into them.

The ones under his clothes grew more purposeful in their movements, tightening around his thighs, creeping upwards, searching.

Most of her eyes were closed, above him her mouth was open, teeth looming inches from his face.

It should have been terrifying, trapped, pinned by a B.O.W., and to some degree it was terrifying, but that terror took a backseat to excitement. He wasn’t the kind of guy who got off from dangerous situations, working as a mercenary for kicks, but this was different. There wasn’t any real danger, just the feel of it.

Probably.

“Hey!” he pushed off the bed, up towards her teeth as one of the searching tendrils slid against his ass and sought entrance.

Sherry’s eyes opened, blinked at him.

“Sorry.”

But she wasn’t. He could tell by her tone and by the way the tendril remained where it was, gently prodding.

Another joined it, cautiously prodding as he refused.

“Sherry,” he warned.

In response she did _something_ with the tendrils around his cock, twisted them or tightened them or flexed them all at once. He wasn’t sure what, all he knew was that it made him gasp and arch his back.

One of the tendrils at his ass found its way in.

And she laughed, a soft rasping sound, but unmistakable for anything else.

There was no pretending that she didn’t know what she was doing or that she had no control. He was the one without control, he realized, and it didn’t bother him half as much as he would have expected it to.

Recovering from his shock he tried to thrust but the alien feeling of the tendril inside him, creeping deeper, flexing and twisting as though searching for something, threw off his rhythm. It was impossible to focus on what he was doing when it was there, especially when there were at least two more seeking to join it.

The tendril curled upwards slightly, prodding at something inside him, resulting in a feeling that was strange and not entirely unpleasant.

He tensed, freezing in her grasp as she continued to move him and move against him.

She slowed slightly, looked down at him.

The tendril curled again, more forcefully this time.

“You liked that!” Her girlish squeal of delight utterly out of place given what she was.

“I-eeeh!” his protest turned into a cry of shock as a second tendril found its way inside him, curling tightly and twisting at the place the first had discovered.

He felt his legs go limp and he lost all ability to move in her grasp, not that it was necessary. She’d been doing most of the work since getting on top, he’d just been along for the ride as she used him.

Because that was what it came down to, she was using him to satisfy herself.

“You did!” She laughed, claws on her smaller set of forelimbs wiggling excitedly as she ground down harder against him, smaller tendrils flailing at his thighs and stomach as the ones inside him continued whatever it was they were doing.

“I – ” he gasped, clawing helplessly at the mattress as the tendrils found a rhythm of their own, one pressing and then sliding back to the point where it nearly withdrew, allowing the other to take its place, then repeating the action.

There was a familiar tension building within him, but it fought with a sensation of weakness, spreading and warm.

“Sherry!”

She growled, gripping him with tendrils outside and pressing at him with the ones inside, tighter and tighter, harder and harder. The tendrils inside him coiled into a tight knot, pressing so hard it almost hurt.

Almost.

He gasped.

Sherry ground down against him, too hard, threatening to crush him.

He thrashed.

She dug her claws into the mattress, shredding it. A third tendril was trying to work its way in, but the others were coiled too tightly. He was too full.

He screamed.

Sherry howled, the sound so loud, so close that it threatened to deafen him.

Release washed over him in wave after exhausting wave.

He thought that he was coming, but he couldn’t be sure, didn’t know if he was convulsing or if it was all Sherry.

She growled and clawed at the bed like a wild thing, bending down so that her teeth were pressed against him.

He was immune to whatever she had, whatever had turned her into this, but that wasn’t going to save him if she bit down.

She shuddered, pressed inside him with her tendrils one last time, but the movement was more of a twitch than the pressure that had been there before.

He convulsed. This time he was sure he came, hard enough that it hurt.

Sherry’s tendrils twitched, the ones wrapped around him going limp and falling away.

He felt raw and numb and exhausted. His head ached and his ears were ringing.

Sherry shook herself, pushed up into a crouch and then rolled to her side and off the bed, the last of her tendrils uncoiling as she hit the floor with a thud loud enough to shake the bed.

Slowly sensation began to return to his legs, a deep, tired ache having settled in the pit of his stomach.

The tendrils inside him slipped out, sliding gracelessly off the bed.

From the floor Sherry exhaled with a loud huff and then was silent.

Unsure if his legs would support him if he tried to stand or if he’d even be able to sit up he remained where he was, waiting for the wooziness to pass.

It was a long wait.

Sherry muttered something.

“Huh?” He tried to lift his head and found that he was able to.

Sherry was on her side, back to him. Not bothering to turn or even lift her head she blinked blearily at him with the eyes that faced him, “Was that good?”

She sounded tired and hopeful and worried, not the best combination.

“I…uhh,” was it good? The jury was still out on that one. It had felt good, or at least parts of it had, but he was having a hard time figuring what parts those were. Better to err on the side of caution, “Yeah, it was good. Did you enjoy it? I mean it was your first time and all so…”

She shakily pushed herself up to that she was more or less sitting, her tendrils slowly starting to coil themselves back together into a tail.

“Yes!” She laughed nervously, “I’m just glad that I did okay. I was afraid…”

She certainly hadn’t shown it as far as he could tell and he said as much, prompting another laugh.

“I thought…I was worried it would hurt, but it didn’t,” she tilted her head towards him, muscles twitching around fangs in a smile, but the look in her eyes was one of sadness, “So thank you for making my first and only time something special. It means a lot to me that you were willing to…”

The guilt thing, she was doing the guilt thing again and he wasn’t going to stand for it, though given the way he felt there wasn’t much of a chance that he could stand at all, “You weren’t a pity fuck, okay? I did that because I wanted to, because…Wait, what do you mean only time?”

Her eyes went wide, “You mean you’d be willing to…again? Even with me like this?”

“Of course!”

He wasn’t going to mention that the way she was had been a big part of why he’d done it, not if he wanted there to be any chance of a next time, and he did.

Instantly her exhaustion was gone, her tail coiling and uncoiling excitedly as she turned and put her forepaws on the bed, “How soon?”

It had to be whatever she was infected with, whatever allowed her to regenerate, that had allowed her to recover so quickly. He didn’t have to worry about getting infected so that wasn’t a concern, but he lacked the inhuman endurance that she, like all B.O.W.s, possessed.

“Not now,” he laughed tiredly, “Give me time to recover.”

Excitement gave way to concern. She lowered her head and spoke fearfully, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

He thought over what the two of them had done. There had been a few awkward, uncomfortable, moments, but nothing actually, intentionally painful, “No. I just need a break, alright?”

Her expression brightened and she awkwardly wrapped her forelimbs around him in a hug, the smaller set hooking their claws into his shirt and pulling him forward, off the bed and down into the nest of pillows and blankets she’d made, “Thank you.”

She sounded so sincere, so surprised, that he had to fight back a laugh. It wasn’t like he’d turn down a chance at a second time with her, especially now that he had a better idea of what to expect, what he had to be careful of.

“You don’t need to thank me, just next time let me take the lead, okay?”

“I’ll try, but I’m still trying to figure some things out,” her tail curled possessively around his waist as she spoke, “It’s going to take some practice.”

“Practice is good. I’ve got no problem with showing you some things,” he gently stroked her tail, feeling the tendrils that made it quiver at his touch. She’d already shown what she was capable of and he was starting to get ideas for other things they could try, things that were only possible because of what she was.

“That feels good,” she sighed, resting her head heavily on his shoulder.

“Mmm,” he nodded, leaning back against her, trying to get comfortable.

One by one her eyes closed, her tail loosening its grip slightly as she fell asleep. He followed not long after, dozing off while thinking not only of figuring out how he was going to Schreiber, but how he’d have to see to it that they met up if they ever happened to be working in the same area again.

Somehow he’d make sure of it.


End file.
